town, although I had not been brought up to stuffwork, nor had ever entirely made one stuff or silk shoe before. Nor should I have presumed to pro claim myself a stuff-man, had there been any sucl. workmen in the place; but as there were none, I boldly ventured and succeeded very well, nor did any one in the town ever know that it was my first attempt in that branch.

During the time that I lived here, I as usual was obliged to employ one or other of my acquaintance to write my letters for me. This procured me much praise among the young men as a good inditer of letters. (I need not inform you that they were not good judges.) My master said to me one day, he was surprized that I did not learn to write my own letters; and added, that he was sure that I could learn to do it in a very short time. The thought pleased me much, and without any delay I set about it, by taking up any pieces of paper that had writing on them, and imitating the letters as well as I could. I employed my leisure hours in this way for near two months, after which time I wrote my own letters, in a bad hand, you may be sure; but it was plain and easy to read, which was all I cared for; nor to the present moment can I write much better, as I never would have any person to teach me, nor was I ever possessed of patience enough to employ time sufficient to learn to write well; and yet as soon as I was able to scribble, I wrote verses on some trifle or other every day for years together.

Out of some thousands I at present recollect the following, which I placed by the side of the figure of a clergyman in his robes, with his hands and eyes lifted up; this image stood over the fire-place in my

room.

Here's a shoemaker's chaplain has negative merit,
As his vice be ne'er flatters or ruffles his spirit;
No wages receiving, bis conscience is clear;
Not prone to deceiving, he's nothing to fear.

'Tis true he is silent--but that's nothing new;
And if you'd repent, his attitude view;
With uplifted hands all vice to reprove,
How solemn he stands, his eyes fix'd above!

As a kind of contrast I will insert an epigram that I wrote but a few days since on an ignorant Methodist preacher.

A stupid fellow told me t'other day,

That by the spirit he could preach and pray ;
Let none then say that miracles have ceas'd,
As God still opes the mouth of beast;
And asses now can speak as plain

As e'er they could in Balaam's reign.

But I always wrote as fast as I could, without endeavouring to write well; and that this is my present practice, I need not inform you.

I came to this place in but a weak state of body; however, the healthy situation of the town, together with bathing in the salt water, soon restored me to perfect health. I passed thirteen months here in a very happy manner; but the wages for work being very low, and as I had spent much time in writing hymns to every song tune that I knew, besides a number of love verses, letters, &c. I was very poor, and to complete all, I began to keep a deal of company, ir. which I gave a loose to my natural gaiety of disposition, much more than was consistent with the grave, sedate ideas which I had formed of a religious character; all which made me resolve to leave Kingsbridge, which I did in 1770.

I travelled as far as Exeter the first day, where I worked about a fortnight, and saved sufficient to carry me to Bridgewater, where I worked two or three weeks more. Before I arrived there Mr John Jones had gone back to reside at Bristol, but as soon as he heard of my being in Bridgewater, he and his brother Richard sent me an invitation to come to Bristol again and live with them. Finding that I did not immediately comply, they both came to Bridgewater,

and declared their intentions of not returning to Bristol without me; so that after a day or two I yielded to their solicitations, and again lived very comfortably with them, their mother and sister.

I think it was about this period that I went several imes to the Tabernacle, and heard Mr George Whitefield; and of all the preachers that ever I attended, never did I meet with one that had such a perfect command over the passions of his audience. In every sermon that I heard him preach, he would sometimes make them ready to burst with laughter, and the next moment drown them in tears; indeed it was scarcely possible for the most guarded to escape the effect.

"He had something 'twas thought still more horrid to say, When his tongue lost its powers and he fainted away; Some say 'twas his conscience that gave him a stroke, But those who best knew him treat that as a joke; - 'Tis a trick which stage orators use in their need, The passions to raise and the judgment mislead.".

SIMKIN.

In one of my excursions I passed many agreeable hours with the late Mr La Bute, at Cambridge, who was well known, he having taught French in that university upwards of forty years. He informed me that near forty years since, Mr Whitefield having advertised himself to preach at Gog-Magog-Hill, many thousand people collected together from many miles round. While he was preaching, he was elevated on the highest ground, and his audience stood all round on the declivity; during his sermon, a young countrywoman, who had come miles to hear him, and waited several hours, being very faint, owing to the violent heat of the sun, the breaths of the multitude, as well as the want of refreshment; and it is very likely much agitated in her mind by the extraordinary doctrines of the preacher, she fell backwards just under the orator, and there lay kicking up her heels. On seeing the poor girl lie in a kind of convulsion, some

of the company moved to assist her, and the women began to draw down her apron and petticoats over her feet; but Mr Whitefield cried out, "Let her alone! let her alone! A glorious sight! a glorious sight!" No doubt the holy man meant that it was a glorious sight to see a sinner fall before the power of the word; but the young college bucks and wits construed his meaning differently, and put the audience into such immoderate fits of laughter, that even Mr Whitefield's utmost efforts were not able to restore their gravity, but he was obliged to dismiss his congregation abruptly.

For a long time after this happened, the Cantabs, as they reeled homewards in the night-time, disturbed the sober inhabitants, by loudly exclaiming, "A glorious sight! a glorious sight! as Dr Squintum says."

I am, dear friend, yours

LETTER XVI.

"Love, the most generous passion of the mind;
The softest refuge innocence can find ;
The soft director of unguided youth,

Fraught with kind wishes, and secured by truth;
The cordial drop heav'n in our cup has thrown,
To make the nauseous draught of life go down;
On which one only blessing God might raise,
In lands of atheists subsidies of praise;
For none did e'er so dull and stupid prove,
But felt a God, and bless'd his pow'r, in love."

DEAR FRIEND,

NONPAREIL.

I MUST now request you to go back with me a few years, as I have not yet made you acquainted with my

K

principal amours. I was about seventeen years of age when an adventure discovered, that although I was so very spiritual, as I before informed you, I was notwithstanding susceptible of another kind of impression.

"Oh, let me still enjoy the cheerful day,

Till many years unheeded o'er me roll;
Pleas'd in my age I trifle life away,

And tell how much I lov'd ere I grew old."
HAMMOND'S Love Elegies.

Being at farmer Gamlin's at Charlton, four miles from Taunton, to hear a Methodist sermon, I fell desperately in love with the farmer's handsome dairymaid.

"Her home-spun dress in simple neatness lies,
And for no glaring equipage she sighs.
She gratefully receives what heav'n has sent,
And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.
Her reputation which is all her boast,
In a malicious visit ne'er was lost.

No midnight masquerade her beauty wears,
And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs.
If love's soft passions in her bosom reign,
An equal passion warms her happy swain."

GAY.

At that time I abounded in spiritual gifts, which induced this honest rustic maid to be very kind to me, and to walk several fields with me in my road back to Taunton, talking all the way of her spiritua distress and godly concerns; while I poured heavenly comfort into her soul, and talked so long of divine love, until I found that my affection for her was not altogether of that spiritual nature. And yet

"We lov'd without transgressing virtue's bounds:
We fix'd the limits of our tenderest thoughts,
Came to the verge of honour, and there stopp'd;
We warm'd us by the fire, but were not scorch'd.
If this be sin, angels might live with more;
And mingle rays of minds less pure than ours."
DRYDEN'S Love Triumphant.